Page 108 of Marked By the Mob

Artur handled the internal warfare with his usual flair for chaos. He manipulated rivals within Volkov’s syndicate, feedinginformation to ambitious lieutenants who saw an opportunity to seize power. The infighting tore through Volkov’s organization like wildfire, turning allies against each other while we watched from the shadows.

And Rurik orchestrated the killing blow during one of Volkov’s diplomatic meetings. A controlled strike that sent a clear message to everyone in the Bratva world: touch what’s ours and we’ll destroy everything you’ve built.

The messages have been pouring in all morning. Volkov’s shipping operations are in shambles. His political connections are severing ties. His safe houses are being raided by rivals emboldened by his sudden weakness. The man who tried to put a hit on Emma and Krystal is now scrambling to survive with maybe five trusted men at his side.

The threat isn’t gone completely, but it’s manageable now. Contained.

I sink the seven ball into the corner pocket and straighten, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. Artur leans against the wall near the window, his dark eyes watching me with that familiar competitive edge. Rurik stands at the bar, pouring vodka into three glasses with methodical precision.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Artur says, his crooked grin firmly in place. “That shot took you twice as long as it should have.”

“Fuck off,” I reply without heat. “I’m still winning.”

“For now.”

Rurik crosses the room and hands us each a glass, his pale blue eyes serious despite the casual setting. “To destroying bastards who threaten what’s ours.”

We drink in silence, the vodka burning pleasantly down my throat. The past week has been brutal, coordinating attacks across multiple fronts while keeping Emma and Krystal safe inside the estate. But it worked. We proved that the three families united are a force no one can stand against.

The door to the game room slams open hard enough to make the bottles on the bar rattle.

Emma storms in with Krystal trailing behind her, and I know immediately that something’s wrong. Emma’s gray-green eyes are blazing with fury, her jaw set in that stubborn line I’ve come to recognize as trouble. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy braid, and she’s wearing fitted jeans that hug her ass perfectly and a black sweater that shows off her full breasts.

Even pissed off, she’s fucking gorgeous.

But the look on her face tells me I should probably focus on whatever’s about to come out of her mouth instead of how badly I want to strip that sweater off her.

She doesn’t wait for us to set down our pool cues or step away from the table. She just plants herself in the middle of the room, crosses her arms over her chest, and lets us have it.

“What are you doing about the bride auction?” Her voice is sharp, demanding. “You’ve spent the past week dismantling Volkov, which is great. But what about the actual auction network? The one that’s still operating? The one that’s still selling women like property?”

I exchange glances with Rurik and Artur. This is the first time Emma’s brought this up directly. We’ve discussed Volkov’s connection to the auction, but she’s never demanded we take action against the entire operation.

I should have seen this coming.

“Emma,” I start carefully, setting down my cue stick. “The auction network is complicated. It’s not run by one person or organization. It’s a web of connections across multiple criminal enterprises.”

“I don’t care how complicated it is.” She steps closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You three are powerful enough to destroy Volkov in a week. You’re telling me you can’t shut down an auction that traffics women?”

Artur pushes away from the wall, his dark eyes serious for once. “It’s not that simple, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” Emma snaps automatically. “And yes, it is that simple. You either care about stopping it…or you don’t.”

The accusation stings. I move closer to her, keeping my voice calm despite the frustration building in my chest. “We do care. But dismantling the auction means going to war with every family that profits from it. That’s not a fight we can win without massive casualties.”

“So you’re just going to let it continue?” Emma’s voice rises. “You’re going to let more women disappear into that nightmare because it’s inconvenient to stop it?”

Krystal shifts uncomfortably near the door, her hazel eyes wide. She looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how to intervene.

Rurik sets down his glass with deliberate care, his pale blue eyes locked on Emma’s face. “Wait here.”

He leaves the room without another word, his broad shoulders disappearing through the doorway. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with Emma’s anger and our collective guilt.

Because she’s right. We’ve known about the auction for years but never participated in it. Not until Emma. It disgusted all of us then, too. It’s never been a part of the Bratva that we paid much attention to.

Rurik returns a few minutes later carrying the old leather-bound ledger I recognize from the study. The one that belonged to our fathers. He sets it on the pool table and opens it carefully, his fingers tracing the yellowed pages.

“The bride auction wasn’t always what it is now,” he says quietly. “Originally, it was a ritual marriage exchange meant to seal alliances between families.”